


The Light We Cannot See

by Get_Going



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not exactly drabble, POV Bellamy Blake, Random point in time, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:19:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3389885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_Going/pseuds/Get_Going
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Bellamy go in search of a fresh water supply and things don't go so well. Clarke is injured, and now it's up to Bellamy to make sure she gets back to camp safely. The only problem is that Bellamy most definitely has no medical training, and Clarke is drugged out of her mind... And saying things that she normally never would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light We Cannot See

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This was originally going to be a one-shot piece, but I'd like to turn it in to a 3 or 4 part story. I've got so much to write and would really had to cram it together for the sake of fitting it into one publishing!
> 
> Pleaaaaaaase let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> This chapter is a bit mild, but is a clearly defined introduction. Bare with me through the writing process for more excitement :)

 

 

This was a joke. 

Something cosmic the Gods had stirred up for their own amusement. It _had_ to be. There was no way, in a million years, that something so routine could have landed Bellamy and Clarke in this situation, unless Karma had some serious steam she needed to blow off. The camp was not exactly _low_ on water, but since they'd made the decision as a group to relocate, Clarke thought it would be a good idea to find a new water source. Something large and moving, so as not to produce stagnant water.

" _Bellamy, this is important_ ", she said, " _It will only take a few hours. We'll be back before the sun starts to set._ " Bellamy had other things to do, but Clarke seemed to think that the second squad didn't need as much training as he was insisting. And she _promised_ they'd be back soon. ~~_And_ she was looking at him with those impossibly blue eyes~~.

Now here they were, in yet another situation where Bellamy certainly had no hand in landing them and somehow, he needed to find a way out of it.

Bellamy limped his way up the small incline of the riverbank, praying that there was somewhere... _anywhere_ soft enough for him to make a path up and over. He hadn't been shot, but when he moved to hit the ground from his standing position he'd managed to twist his muscle at the knee. It certainly wouldn't kill him, but it made carrying Clarke to safety all the more taxing. 

Clarke, who hadn't been so lucky. 

Bellamy wasn't able to examine the full extent of the damage, and he _couldn't_ until they could find stable ground. The bullets had stopped coming but he didn't know if it was because the men on the other side of the river had scared them off, or if they were _coming_ for them.

"Damn it, Clarke, hold on." His words were all but soothing, though he didn't intend for them to come out quite so harsh. He was frustrated and anxious, and his heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst from his chest. Clarke made a noise that sounded a bit like someone was holding a pillow over the mouth of a crying six year old. 

"Do I need to lay you down or sit you up?" Bellamy's words were rushed now, drenched in panic and her gurgle seemed evidence enough that she wasn't going to be much help. 

Having made it over the grassy knoll, Bellamy darted quickly around a cluster of large boulders, decorated by the stumps of monstrous trees that had once inhabited the landscape. The rot in the trunks indicated that they'd been gone for a very long time, and he hesitated in laying Clarke down among the rubble. Though they weren't hyper sensitive to the nuclear radiation, there was no way of knowing just _how_ much had soaked in to the compost.

"Bellamy," Clarke groaned, her words barely audible, "My head..."

"Okay, shh, I've got you.." His voice trailed off as he carefully plopped the girl down as gently as he could muster. 

"Alright," _Commence pep-talk,_ "Okay... First.." Bellamy spoke to no one other than himself as he inspected the young girl before him. Clarke was sprawled out, her limbs elongated and stretched to her sides, but he couldn't see any blood. There _had_ to be blood. How could someone get shot and not bleed?

Dirt soiled hands reached to the zipper on his jacket, quickly forcing it down his chest so that he could shrug it off. The khaki color of a plain t-shirt was stained red and black around the sleeves, and subtle tears showed along the hemline. Some of the blood was fresh, but not life threatening.

Now, Bellamy did the same to Clarke, his hands nervously making their way to the zip-line on her coat. Never in a million years did he expect these to be the conditions under which he'd be undressing her for the first time.

_Not that he'd given it any thought_.

Bellamy cleared his throat and dragged the zipper down in one fell swoop. Slowly, he placed a shaky hand under her neck, lifting Clarke forward and peeling off her jacket. He was careful when laying her back down, and immediately proceeded in inspecting her wounds. There were dried splatters all over the fabric of her clothes (much like his own), but only two spots where it was evident that the injuries were fresh. 

Without any consideration for her privacy (obviously), Bellamy lifted the edge of Clarke's tee to reveal her pale stomach. He inspected the first wound which fell over her abdomen, and determined it to be a mere scratch- probably from falling.

Much to his surprise, his actions had solicited a... _giggle_ from the injured party. 

"Bell, stop!" Clarke chuckled.

" _Bell?_ " The man raised a brow and looked up at Clarke from his crouched position, noting that her eyes were closed but a pleased sort of grin was painted across her face. 

"That tickles," Clarke's words were more muffled now, but she was _clearly_ intent on their interaction, "You _know_ I'm ticklish!" This time she swatted at Bellamy, her hands pushing his own away from her. He couldn't help but notice how hot her touch felt.

"Clarke," His tone was stern and direct; _Bellamy Blake; all business_ , "You're burning up. I can't tell if you're in danger of going in to shock or if you've been poisoned." Try as he may to get an adequate response out of the blonde, the only thing he got in return was **more swatting** , and a few bouts of soft laughter.

"Stop..." He insisted, pushing her hands back as his brow furrowed in frustration, but she didn't. In fact, she wasn't listening to Bellamy at **all**. "Damn it!" When he snapped, his muscular grip wrapped firmly around Clarke's thin fingers, holding them in place until she stopped moving. Her eyes snapped open revealing oceanic orbs, the color hardly recognizable as it fought against her enlarged pupils.

"How come you only hold my hand when we're alone?" Clarke's expression melted in to sadness. _What the hell is she thinking?_ Bellamy had never so much as touched her... ~~Not that he hadn't thought about it~~.

"Clarke listen, I'll hold your hand all you want when we get back to camp, but right now we've got to find a way to _get_ you back, okay?" He spoke slowly and softly, as not to rile her up.

"'Kay!" She agreeably dropped her hands from her offensive position and laid still, allowing Bellamy to loosen his grip on her and get back to work. 

"'Kay." He mimicked her words, silently thankful that she'd stopped fighting him. Finally he was able to inspect the second wound, the one beneath the fresh blood on her shoulder. With no objection from Clarke, he peeled back her sleeve, revealing a bleeding hold in her skin, most likely from a bullet. 

"Shit." The curse was quiet but quite profane. He was ~~hoping~~ _praying_ there was an exit wound, but knew that also meant he would need a bind and a salve to close the hole and keep infection out. The most useful person to him right now would normally be Clarke, but she was _clearly_ out of her right mind. Bellamy was definitely not the most knowledgeable in the medical department. 

"Clarke, listen," _fat chance_ , "You're bleeding. You've got a bullet hole in your shoulder and I have to make sure it isn't still in you. Do you think you can sit up for me?" At least this way he could lay his jacket beneath her, and perhaps the rough fabric would help add some pressure and suppress the bleeding. 

Clarke paused, and now her gaze lingered upon Bellamy as he kneeled over her legs. Her lips pursed into a tight smile, which spread quickly over her face and grazed her eyes.

"Anything for you, Bells." Her tone was sweet. _Too sweet_.

It brought a flare of crimson to his cheeks.

"Yeah...Definitely poison."


End file.
